


come home (to you, to us)

by birlcholtz (justwhatialwayswanted)



Series: Zimbits Airport AU [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Graduation Angst, Multi, honestly who knows where i'm going with this, jack may or may not meet the parents, not me, rated teen for one (1) brief instance of language, still nowhere near angst though, there may or may not be more as the story progresses, this is like... slightly less fluffy than what i usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwhatialwayswanted/pseuds/birlcholtz
Summary: Bitty's going to do it. He's coming out to his parents.(If only it didn't feel so much like ripping off a Band-Aid that's still stuck to your skin.)





	1. Chapter 1

When Bitty calls his parents to tell them he’ll only be coming to Madison for two weeks that summer, they’re disappointed but understanding. 

“I have to look for jobs in Boston,” he says by way of explanation. “It’ll be easier in the summer since all the college students will have gone home. Besides, I need to live there for at least one summer to decide if I really want to live there year-round.”

“That makes perfect sense, Dicky,” his mother replies. “But if you change your mind and want to stay for longer, that’s perfectly fine too. Just let us know, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks.”

“Oh, and Dicky, what’s the background behind you? That’s not your dorm room, is it?”

_ Shit. _ Bitty looks around at Jack’s apartment. He completely forgot that he usually Skypes his parents from his dorm. “I’m at Lardo’s. She’s having a get-together with the old team— um, I’m the first one here,” he adds, because his parents definitely know how loud his team is, and Jack’s apartment is practically silent in comparison, even when Jack is home. “She just ran out to the store, but I’ll tell her you say hello?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You’ve got a place to stay in Boston this summer?” Coach checks.

“Yes, sir. Earned some money from babysitting some of my professors’ kids, enough for a month if I don’t get a job. Worst comes to worst, Lardo said I can crash at her house until I’m on my feet.”

Mom smiles. “She’s a very nice girl, Dicky.”

“Sure is,” Bitty replies carefully. “But I know where you’re going with that, and we’re not interested in each other.”

“Of course, of course. Well, we’ll Skype next weekend, right?”

“Yes, and then I’ll fly back with you after graduation.”

“Oh, don’t talk about that,” Mom says, flapping her hand. “I’m not ready for you to be out of college.”

“Me neither,” Bitty says, but his mother’s already left the frame. Bitty can hear her blowing her nose offscreen.

“You’re keeping an eye on job listings?” Coach asks.

“Yes sir. I’m going to downtown every so often to see if there are any help wanted signs, too. Not much luck, but Dex usually stays for the summer and always manages to find a job somehow, so I can ask him if he knows any places that are hiring.”

“All right, Junior. Take care of yourself. See you next Sunday.”

“You too. Bye, Coach.”

His dad hangs up, and Bitty sighs. He’s both dreading and anticipating the trip back to Madison— dreading because he’s been putting it off for a long time, anticipating because maybe then he won’t have to tell them that he’s at Lardo’s apartment, maybe instead he can say ‘My boyfriend lives in New England, and we don’t want to do long distance, and I don’t want to come back to Georgia and have to go back in the closet.’

Jack, saint that he is, had offered to come with Bitty to Madison, and like a wimp, Bitty had accepted. He’ll be staying in a hotel so that Bitty doesn’t have to worry about how to introduce him, but in case it goes badly, Bitty has somewhere to go.

If it goes badly. Lord, he doesn’t even want to think about that.

Bitty closes his laptop with a sigh and goes to rummage through the kitchen and see what he can bake with the ingredients in the apartment. He’s in the mood to make something simple right now, something he could do in his sleep.

 

Jack gets back from his run right when Bitty is rolling out the sugar cookie dough.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and okay, maybe Bitty  _ is _ wielding the rolling pin with more force than usual, but it’s really nothing to be concerned about.

“No, I just talked to my parents,” Bitty says, putting down the rolling pin and looking out the window at the street below them. “Told them I was at Lardo’s place and they think I’m dating her now, probably.”

Jack doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t think of himself as particularly good with words, Bitty’s discovered over the months that they’ve been together— but he comes to the counter and puts his hands over Bitty’s. They stand there in silence for a moment before Jack says, “I’m going to go shower and then we can talk more about it, okay?”

“Yes, go shower, you’re all sweaty. I’ll probably have the sugar cookies in the oven by the time you’re done.”

Bitty wields an army of cookie cutters, and on his best days he has difficulty restricting himself to only a few shapes. Today, he uses as many different shapes as possible and winds up with no two cookies the same when he slides them into the oven. There’s no point in making the frosting now, as he’d still have to wait for the cookies to come out of the oven and then cool, so Bitty makes sure he has enough butter softening and sprawls out on the couch with his phone. Jack emerges with fresh clothing and wet hair a few minutes later— he’s not one for long showers, Bitty has discovered. Not that it’s surprising, considering that Jack is a professional athlete; if he took long showers, he’d probably spend more time showering than playing.

“Have your parents always assumed you’re dating girls that you mention?” Jack asks.

“No,” Bitty says. “They always thought I was a late bloomer. I remember Coach saying during high school he thought I was just  _ far _ too busy to think about dating. It was as convenient an excuse as any, I guess. Dunno why they think I’d be any less busy now, though. It’s not like hockey started taking up less time.”

“The season  _ is _ over,” Jack points out.

“Oh, they know. That’s probably why. But it’s not like my parents didn’t have some idea of the stuff that went on during high school. I think they’re as desperate for me to be normal as I am.”

“You are.”

“Logically, I know that. I think they do too, but...” Bitty sighs. “Normal means something different in Georgia than it does here.”

“Have you changed your mind about coming out to them?”

“Lord, no. And I do want to go and visit. But everything will be different after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have to keep the secret then too.”

“But they’ll do it.”

“Probably.”

“They will. They love you.” Jack wraps an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and he feels secure. Bitty could stay here forever, just letting thoughts about Georgia drift from his mind and sinking into the couch cushions and just staying.

Well.

He’ll probably have to get up to frost the cookies.


	2. Chapter 2

“Yesterday I had to go to the post office to pick up my cap and gown,” Bitty reports in the last Skype call he’ll ever make to his parents from his college dorm room. “Nursey said to decorate it, but I don’t know what I’d decorate it with.”

“Pictures of pies,” Coach suggests.

“I don’t know, I don’t want it to look like I just slapped some stuff on there, you know? It should either be pristine or have something that really looks nice on it. So when I’m looking at it in ten years my first thought is not ‘why did I feel the need to decorate it?’”

“Ask Lardo to help you,” Mom says.

“She would cover it in something abstract, impractical, and completely incomprehensible.”

“Maybe. Are you doing anything special tonight?”

Bitty holds up his hand in the universal ‘wait a moment’ signal and grabs his Zimmermann jersey from his bed, holding it up in front of his laptop camera to show his parents. “Going to the Falconers-Kings game!” The Falconers have sailed through the playoffs, a big part of that due to Jack, and they’re playing the Kings tonight for the Stanley Cup. If the Falconers win, they win the cup; if the Kings win, they’ll be at 3-2. Bitty hopes that the Falconers win— not just because Jack is on the Falconers, but also because he wants to be there when Jack wins. The next game would be in Los Angeles, and by the time they would have the seventh game, Bitty would already be back in Madison. He’s hoping for a win tonight. Jack is too.

“Junior, is that a signed jersey? How’d you get a signed jersey?”

“I met Jack Zimmermann in an airport,” Bitty says. “We were on the same delayed flight. Funny, I didn’t even know who he was for a while. Thought he was just another guy in a suit flying business class on a red-eye.”

“And he signed your jersey?” Mom asks. “That’s great!”

“He gave the jersey to me,” Bitty says. He only has to work a little to keep his mind from going back to that day— Jack had presented him with that signed jersey like it was his entire being that he was putting in Bitty’s hands and that was when they became, well,  _ official. _

“That’s real nice of him,” Mom says. 

“Yeah, he is. Nice.” Bitty smiles at the camera and sees them smiling back and imagines for a moment that this is two weeks from now, that this is him saying “I’m dating Jack Zimmermann” and his parents smiling and saying “that’s great, he’s a nice boy” and that being that.

Two weeks. Only two weeks. Maybe less.

“Are your team going to the game too?” Coach asks.

“No, they’re hosting a viewing party. Chowder’s happy that the Kings are losing and he wants to invite a bunch of people to the Haus and instruct them to chant ‘beat L.A.’ as loudly as they can for as long as they can. All of them are gonna have sore throats tomorrow. I did ask if they wanted to come but they were all more interested in shouting things at the TV.”

“Did Zimmermann invite you to the game too?”

“Sure did! We all went to a Falcs-Bruins game once, the whole team, right after I met him. So he knows the whole team.”

Coach whistles. “You made friends with a pro athlete. Still sinking in.”

“I’ll take a selfie with him and send it to you,” Bitty says. “After the game tonight.”

“That’ll be one for the scrapbook!” Mom says.

“Please don’t make it weird.”

“It’s not weird. You’re close, I can tell. Mother’s intuition. Why  _ not _ put pictures of you and your friends in the scrapbook?”

Bitty pulls his face into a smile. “It’s just a little odd, seeing as you haven’t got any pictures of me and the team in your scrapbook.”

“Oh, honey, that’s what you think. Here, let me go get it, I’ll show you. I got this  _ really _ nice picture from William the other day, he took it while you and he and Derek and Chris were all baking—  _ such _ a polite young man, really, if he  _ does _ fight with Derek like you say they always do, I certainly don’t know why.”

_ UST, _ Bitty fills in in his head. His mother’s words are already fading as she leaves the room to go locate her scrapbook of Bitty’s college years. 

“It’s on the dresser, dear,” Coach calls to her.

“Thank you,” Mom replies, and she’s back in a moment with the scrapbook. It’s Samwell red and white and Bitty has already seen a lot of it; he’s looked at the pages full of pictures of him moving in on the first day and at the first Family Weekend so many times he practically has each detail memorized. As time’s gone on and the novelty of being at college has worn off (both for Bitty and his parents), he’s looked at it less and less. That is to say, his mother has sat him down on the couch and insisted he look at her handiwork less and less. She still works on it, somewhat feverishly if Coach is to be believed, but he won’t see the finished product until after graduation.

After graduation. Lord. Bitty’d be lying if he said he wasn’t as off-balance as his parents are at the thought of it. He’s taking his last finals ever. His last NCAA season is already over. He has no idea what he’s doing with his degree. The true college experience.

“Here it is!” Mom says, holding the scrapbook up to the camera so Bitty can see. 

Dex really isn’t a bad photographer. He never mastered the principles of selfies in the same way that Nursey and Bitty have, but when he’s taking pictures of other people, they look pretty decent. Chowder is sliding a lemon meringue pie into the oven as Bitty and Nursey start washing up. The sun shines through the window and hits all of their faces. They look happy. They were. Bitty hadn’t even noticed Dex taking a picture.

Chowder will be captain next year, and Whiskey has Bitty’s dibs (he  _ did _ open up more to the team after copious amounts of blackberry crumble and Smash Bros.) and Bitty won’t be there anymore. He won’t be baking pies in the kitchen. He won’t be playing Beyonce while he pretends to study. He won’t be there.

“That’s a good picture,” Bitty says, trying to focus on the little details. The sun glints off the whisk Nursey is rinsing and the bubbles from the soap in the bowl Bitty is scrubbing. Chowder is wearing teal oven mitts that Farmer bought for him after observing how much time he spent baking. Judging from the angle, Dex was standing in the doorway to the kitchen when he took it.

“It’s okay to be upset that you’re leaving,” Mom says.

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t left yet,” Coach adds. “You still have until Saturday. Which reminds me, you still have finals. And that hockey game tonight. College isn’t over yet. You can go out with a bang. Just not a literal one, please. I don’t want any calls saying you blew up a library.”

“A library? Why would I ever blow up a library?”

“Well, you wouldn’t blow up a kitchen, you’re far too careful with the oven.”

“There aren’t any ovens in a library.”

“Well, hypothetically speaking, if you were going to blow up a library, you could probably find a way. But like I said. Don’t.”

“Yes sir. No blowing up libraries in the last week of school.”

“You got it. Now go study for those finals and enjoy the game tonight. Make sure to let us know how it went.”

“We love you,” Mom says, and Coach nods.

“Love you too,” Bitty says. “Bye.”

He’s barely closed his computer before that impending sense of leaving sets in. It hits him like a freight truck and Bitty sets an alarm on his phone and decides to just lie in bed for a while. He has hours until he has to start getting ready for the game, and he’s not ready to face studying for those last finals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this fic might be kind of discursive. I'm getting distracted by graduation angst and all the things that come with it and so this isn't going to be 100% focused on Bitty coming out to his parents. That *will* happen and *will* be a main focus of the fic, it just won't be the *only* focus of the fic. Blame the plot bunnies!   
> Also, shoutout to ittybitsofzimmermann on Tumblr for explaining to me what happens in June in the NHL world!!


	3. Chapter 3

As it turns out, Bitty doesn’t need his phone alarm. Ten minutes before it’s supposed to go off, Dex is knocking on his door and talking at him through it. “Bitty? Did you say yes or no for the oatmeal butterscotch cookies? I can’t remember and if I don’t come up with an answer Nursey is going to try and make me make, like, oatmeal quinoa flax seed cookies or something and you know we’d be stuck eating them for weeks.”

“Yes to the oatmeal butterscotch cookies,” Bitty says, sitting upright. He didn’t sleep, just sort of slipped between awake and dozing a few times, but he still feels like his bones are made of cotton. He turns off the alarm that’s set to go in nine minutes and seven seconds. “Tell Nursey that the flax seeds are not to be used for anything except breakfast bars. I don’t even think we have quinoa in the Haus.”

“We do,” Dex says through the door. “I don’t know how or why, but I suspect Chowder.”

“Chowder?”

“Yeah, apparently superfoods are really popular in the Bay Area. He knows more ways to eat kale than anybody else I’ve ever met.”

Bitty swings his legs over the side of his bed and opens the door. “So what does Chowder think about oatmeal quinoa flax seed cookies?”

“That they sound like breakfast bars and he refuses to accept them as cookies,” Dex says, turning and going back down the hallway to the stairs now that he’s gotten his answer. Bitty doesn’t follow him; he has to start getting ready for the game. Dex can handle the kitchen by himself as long as Chowder keeps Nursey away from any open flame or sharp objects.

“Are you leaving soon?” Tango asks. He’s in Chowder’s room, putting a novel back on the bookshelf. He treats Chowder’s room like a library, and near as Bitty can tell they seem to have formed a two-person book club. “You said you were leaving before people start getting here, right?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go in about an hour,” Bitty says, opening his sock drawer (he’s been wearing flip-flops today, but his feet would freeze at the rink). “Dex hasn’t repossessed his blue sweater, right?” He’s wearing his Zimmermann jersey to the game, but it’ll probably go late enough that he’ll stay the night at Jack’s instead of coming straight back to Samwell, so he needs to pack for Sunday as well, and Nursey’s right— that shade of blue  _ does _ suit him. Besides, whether or not the Falconers win tonight, Jack will probably appreciate the color.

“No, he and Nursey went shopping for another one two weeks ago and I think they came back with six different bags. And some shoes. Maybe you left it on the drying racks in the laundry room?” (The dryer is irrevocably broken, and until Dex can come up with the funds to buy a new one, they’re stuck leaving their clothes to air-dry. Chowder has loudly proclaimed how much better for the environment it is, but that doesn’t stop everyone else from complaining about how much longer it takes.)

“Probably. Thanks, Tango.”

“No problem, Bitty! Have fun at the game!” Tango finds where the book is supposed to go and puts it away, then heads back to his own room as Bitty goes to the laundry room in search of his sweater.

 

His hair is rumpled from lying on his pillow, so it takes some combing and a bit of hairspray for Bitty to get it to lie flat, but once it does, he’s ready to go to the game. He’s going over early enough to put his things in Jack’s apartment first— Jack’ll probably already be at the rink by now, so they won’t see each other, but Jack assures Bitty that the doorman (his name is Jacob) will let Bitty into Jack’s apartment.

“You leaving now?” Nursey asks as Bitty passes the kitchen.

“Yeah. Should be back tomorrow before lunch, if not I’ll text to say so.”

“See you then.”

 

“Hi, Jacob.”

“Hi, Eric. Jack left something here for you, let me grab it.” Jacob goes behind the receptionist’s desk for a moment and comes back with an envelope, handing it to Bitty. “You can go on up.”

“Um, how am I going to get in?”

Jacob nods to the envelope with a significant look on his face, so Bitty opens it.

Two things are in the envelope: a key, and a folded piece of paper. Bitty has a sneaking suspicion what the key is for, but he unfolds the paper in the hopes that it’ll answer that.

 

_ I got another key made. This is for whenever you want. You’re always, always welcome. _

_ -Jack _

 

Bitty nods at Jacob, feeling the lump in his throat that always comes before tears, and hurries to the elevator. He spends the ride up to Jack’s floor running his thumb over the edge of the key, marveling at how solid and  _ real _ it feels in his palm. Tangible. A metal key isn’t something that’s going away.

He opens the door to Jack’s apartment with the key, and when he gets inside and closes the door behind him, he notices a piece of paper taped to the inside of the door.

 

_ Bitty, _

_ I take it you got your key, then? You left a sweatshirt the last time you were here, it’s on top of my dresser. There’s a Tupperware of pasta in the fridge if you didn’t get a chance to eat before coming. I’ll see you after the game tonight— an usher will come and get you after it’s over, same as last time. I love you. _

_ -Jack _

 

Bitty’s not going to cry, he’s  _ not going to cry— _

Okay, so maybe there are some tears, but nobody needs to know that Bitty burst into tears because his boyfriend gave him a key to his apartment. He takes the piece of paper off the door and carefully peels the tape off, putting it in the trash can under the sink, before folding up the paper and putting it in his duffel bag right next to the small note that had accompanied the key. If he was a scrapbooker, maybe he would add them in, but as it is, if Bitty just presented them to his mother and asked her to put them into her scrapbook, that would raise a lot of questions that he doesn’t want to deal with yet. He creases the paper extra-sharply and makes sure the notes are secure in the zippered pocket on the inside of his bag.

Then he texts Jack.

 

**Bitty:** you don’t do anything by halves, do you, mr. zimmermann?

**Bitty:** see you @ the game, love you :))))))

**Jack:** <3 :-)

**Bitty:** <3

  
Lord, he’s grinning like a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no zimbits fic is complete without a tooth-rotting amount of fluff  
> i think this is definitely taking shape to be a fic at least as long as the original airport AU (that is to say, around 10,000 words or longer) so i'm not worrying as much about every chapter being directly focused on bitty and his parents. because sometimes you just wanna write fluff!  
> also, i LIVE for tadpole and frog friendship and tango and chowder are The Fandom y'know? like if anyone on the team reads excessive amounts of fanfiction it's them. (and nursey but nursey is in all these fandoms with like 3 people and so he's in a constant state of pain)  
> also, when i say chowder knows a lot of ways to eat kale, i mean chowder is me. quinoa and kale probably comprise like 30% of my food intake and i have bags of granola mix that are like, granola, quinoa, dried oatmeal, and flax seeds, so yeah chowder is me. nursey is not me holy shit those cookies would taste like grainy cardboard


	4. Chapter 4

After the game, it takes a while before Bitty can go into the locker room. For one thing, it’s filled with press for even longer than usual— for another, they’re getting it back to its regular champagne-free state before anyone else is allowed in. Despite the use of cling wrap on the lockers (and some of the people), the champagne, near as Bitty can tell, had formed pools on the cling wrap covering the floor, which took some delicacy to remove without spilling.

Everyone’s in a good mood, even the people who got relegated to cleaning up the champagne. Winning the cup is great— winning it at home? Even better, no matter how many times the Falconers have done it since Jack became captain. It was a clean game, with one scuffle that resulted in one of the Kings forwards being sent to the penalty box after punching Tater. Tater had brushed it off like a bite from a gnat, of course, but it was obvious enough that the other guy started it that the Kings couldn’t hope to argue the case.

Bitty hangs out hopefully unobtrusively by the door as the cleaning crew, and then the press, leave, and once the journalists are out of sight, he knocks and says “It’s Bitty” somewhat loudly in the hopes that he’ll be heard over the sound of their conversation. He can hear yelling (Tater is recounting one particular struggle for the puck in the second period) and a good amount of swearing, which generally means they’ve fully comprehended that they’ve won.

“BITTY!” Snowy shouts over the sound of Tater explaining his backup plan in case the first check didn’t get the other guy to give up the puck. “GET YOUR ASS IN HERE.”

The door’s unlocked, so Bitty opens it and walks in and is immediately assuaulted by the smell of sweaty hockey gear (and players). Some things never change.

“Jack’s in the shower,” Poots says when he notices Bitty. “Feel free to casually hang out and see how long it takes for him to notice that you’re here.”

“Ten seconds,” someone says from the back of the room.

“Fifteen,” someone else counters. “He’ll be preoccupied.”

“No, ten. Still on high alert from the game.”

“I think ten,” Tater says, pausing in his monologue.

That starts a flurry of assertions— Bitty doesn’t actually see any money changing hands, but then, Jack hasn’t actually left the shower yet. He establishes a private bet with himself— will the bet money go to different players, or will it all go straight into the Falconers’ sin bin?

“He already knows,” Snowy insists. “Who else would come in?”

“No way, man, you can’t hear  _ anything _ when the shower is running,” someone else says.

“Maybe  _ you _ can’t, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t either,” Snowy fires back.

“Ten or less,” Socks says. This was his second game back after recovering from his concussion, and Bitty thinks it was a good ‘welcome back,’ although it  _ does _ mean he won’t play again for a while due to offseason. “He has eyes, he will notice.”

As it turns out, all of their hypotheses are moot.

“Of course I knew he would be here,” Jack shouts from the showers. “I  _ invited _ him. So all of you can stop theorizing about the quality of my vision.”

“Jack wins,” Tater says solemnly, and they all go back to changing and talking amongst themselves.

 

Before Bitty knows it, he’s been swept up in the crowd of Falconers going to a bar afterwards to celebrate properly (and by properly they mean drunk). Surprisingly, it’s Jack’s idea.

“You never want to go out after games,” Bitty says to him. “Something up?”

“No,” Jack says. “I just don’t want the season to be over yet. If I go home, I’m going to go to sleep right away, and then when I wake up tomorrow it’ll be offseason. Today is still a game day.”

“Oh, wait,” Bitty says, stopping in his tracks.

“Did you forget something?”

“Almost!” He takes out his phone. “Promised my parents I would get a selfie with you as proof that I actually know you and I’m not just watching games from the ventilation system or something.”

“Cannot watch games from ventilation system,” Tater says over his shoulder. “Even you are too big.”

“Maybe I had Lardo plant a camera in there,” Bitty answers. “Or maybe she’s in there right now and whenever there’s a home game we all FaceTime her and she sends us footage of the game.”

“Ingenious,” Snowy says. “But slightly terrifying. Hey, are you taking a selfie?”

Bitty nods, which may not have been his best idea as immediately what feels like the entire Falconers organization practically teleports into the space behind him, all jockeying for the best spots for visibility. “My arms aren’t long enough for this, y’all.”

Someone jams a selfie stick into his hand, but they vanish into the group before Bitty can figure out who had such foresight.

“No problem,” Tater says, but it can’t have been him since he’s standing at the back, confident in his height to keep his face in the frame. “Team selfie stick. We bring on roadies for times like this.”

Bitty extends the selfie stick and snaps a few pictures before someone ruffles Snowy’s hair and all hell breaks loose. As carnage occurs behind him (Snowy seems to be attempting to repay the culprit in kind), he snaps a few more. Coach will definitely get a kick out of them.

“Your parents will definitely believe that,” Jack says when Bitty retrieves his phone and collapses the selfie stick. “If nothing else, the stark lack of decorum around you will convince them that you’re well acquainted with the team.”

“They’d make a great Snapchat story,” Bitty says, scrolling through the pictures on his phone. He shows Jack one that he’d unwittingly taken right as a hand was reaching out of the crowd behind Snowy aimed at his hair. “The beginning of the chaos.”

“Then you should put them on Snapchat.” Jack’s become quite proficient with filters, once Bitty explained to him what the purpose of the app was. Once he made his own and added Bitty to his contacts, he grasped it quite quickly: he must have dozens of Bitty’s selfies saved to his phone, judging by the number of times Bitty has gotten a notification that he’s taken a screenshot, and Bitty has not heard a single complaint about the unnecessariness since then. “It’s not like it’s a secret that we know each other.”

“True. Okay, I will.”

“Maybe you should put them on your tweeter too.”

“I can’t tell if you’re chirping me or if you’re being completely serious.”

“Is that not what it’s called?”

“No.”

“I see. Well, it appears that I have more things to learn.”

“I’m staying the night, we’ll get a head start before I go back to Samwell.”

“Will we?”

“Come to think of it, I don’t know. But there’s no rush. I can always teach you about Twitter next time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack agrees. “But first, you have a Snapchat story to update.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is probably going to be when things really start moving (aka when i actually get around to the main plot arc) so anticipate that! but don't anticipate it anytime soon because i'll be at school for almost 12 hours straight tomorrow through thursday so i won't have a lot of time to write then, and i have performances this weekend so i won't have too much time. i'll do my best to at least get it started though so i can give y'all a better idea of when i'll be able to have the next chapter up!  
> (for more frequent updates on the status of my writing, just head to my tumblr @birlcholtz!! i promise i'm friendly)


	5. Chapter 5

Bitty texts the selfie of him and Jack to his parents, as well as a few of the ones of him with the team and following it up with a ‘told you!!!’, and he’s entirely unsurprised when he gets a reply less than a minute later. The surprising part is that it’s not from his mother— it’s Coach, FaceTiming him. 

When Bitty picks up, Coach says, without even pausing for a hello, “First of all, Junior, your mother would like me to tell you that Jack Zimmermann looks  _ exactly _ like Bad Bob did back when we were your age. She’d tell you herself but she’s making filling for lemon meringue pie and she can’t leave the stove. Second of all, you’d better stay near Providence if you’re going to keep making friends with their professional hockey team. Otherwise making it to games is too much trouble. And third, what  _ happened _ while you were taking those pictures?”

“Snow, their goalie, is particular about his hair,” Bitty replies. “Anyone who touches it when he just finished washing it is a dead man.”

Coach chuckles. “I can’t tell if a team that rambunctious would make doing PR for them a dream or a nightmare.”

“They’re pretty personable. I think the PR team just needs to remind them to tone it down once in a while.”

“You thought about seeing if you can get a job there?”

“I don’t know how much in demand my skill set is,” Bitty says. Which is only partially a lie. He’s sure that if he even hinted that he wanted to work for the Falconers organization, Jack would find him a list of open positions, but that’s the issue. As much as he loves Jack and the Falconers and staffers he’s met, what happens if they break up? How would Bitty feel keeping a job that his ex got him? “But I can look for jobs in Providence. Brown is right by there, so maybe there’ll be some places hiring that usually employ students who went home for the summer. I’m planning to stay in Massachusetts unless I’ve got something lined up for certain, though, since a lot of my friends live in the area.”

“And are willing to let you sleep on the couch?”

“Yeah, if it comes to that, but I don’t think it will. Lardo said she knows some places that are always hiring over the summer, so I can go work at a restaurant or a department store while I look for a better job. That should be enough for at least the summer, and I’ll just keep trying until I find a year-round position.”

“I’m glad you’re putting so much thought into it.”

Just then, Bitty hears his mother saying something indistinct from the kitchen.

“Sorry, Junior, gotta go,” Coach says. “I’m being called on to help your mom clean up in exchange for the extra scraps of pie crust. We’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Bitty echoes and ends the call.

 

“So how does it feel to be a college graduate?” Coach asks when they’re at lunch after the ceremony later that week.

“Still hasn’t sunk in, to be honest,” Bitty replies. “I keep thinking I’ve got to get a new pack of highlighters for next year.”

“We can buy one for the sake of it,” Suzanne suggests as she twirls her pasta around her fork. “To make you think you’ve got school next fall.”

“Oh,  _ no. _ I’ve gone through that enough times. I’m just waiting for the realization to set in that I never have to do homework again.”

“That’s something to celebrate,” Coach agrees.

The diner that they’ve found is a small one relatively near campus, and it’s packed with new Samwell alums and their families, who apparently all had the same idea. Bitty’s grilled cheese sandwiches are remarkably good; he hasn’t had a grilled cheese sandwich in forever and was surprised to find that he missed it.

After the ceremony, there’d been a whirlwind of people and pictures and smiles and congratulations and farewells and it feels good to just sit here. Of the people he’d really miss, he’ll see again; Dex is staying for the summer, Chowder will be back, Nursey will probably drive up from New York at least a couple of times. He sees the other alums all the time, even if Ransom and Holster are all the way in California; besides, Shitty is already planning a reunion now that the “whole crew from junior year’s graduated, brah.”

“He’s done this every year since he graduated,” Lardo had added on. “I haven’t asked if he’ll keep doing it once everyone he knew has graduated, though.”

“Oh, we brought something for you,” Suzanne says suddenly, interrupting Bitty’s train of thought, which has moved on to ‘is it even possible for Shitty to throw kegsters now that he’s living in a tiny apartment instead of a frat house.’ He’s thankful, because that’s a train of thought he doesn’t want to follow much longer. (Bitty’s been intensely nostalgic for the yesteryears of college since about March.)

“What is it?”

She opens her purse, big enough to store her wallet, phone, keys, tissues, pen, paper, sandwich, book, and spare some room for Tupperware, and withdraws something vaguely square wrapped in deep red tissue paper. It’s tied with a silky white ribbon in a perfect bow. “Figured it’s been long enough.”

“Oh, I know what this is,” Bitty says with a grin as he takes it from her and undoes the bow. The tissue paper falls off easily (Suzanne is in favor of securing wrapping with ribbons instead of tape, since that way the wrapping can be reused) and reveals the scrapbook, a simple white with an empty photo slot on the cover. It’s good-sized, but small enough that he’ll be able to stand it on a bookshelf, unlike some of the big scrapbooks Suzanne’s made that are just too big to be anywhere except the coffee table.

“That’s for a picture of you in your cap and gown,” Suzanne says. “Your father took a bunch, but we couldn’t get them printed in time to wrap it up. I figured you wouldn’t mind getting it before it was a hundred percent done.”

Bitty wipes his hands on his napkin (the cook buttered the bread of the grilled cheese before putting it in the pan, which means it tastes much better, but also that his hands have gotten a tad greasy) and then opens up the scrapbook. The first picture is him opening his acceptance letter from Samwell— Bitty hadn’t even realized someone (probably Coach, because he can see Suzanne’s hand on his shoulder) was taking a picture. Next to it is a picture that they took of the main entrance when they all went up to help Bitty move in for his first year. Page after page follows, chronological photos of each year, with short, hand-written anecdotes on almost every page. He flips through somewhat quickly, aware of his parents watching him— he can read everything Suzanne wrote later. 

The very last picture is one Bitty’s never seen before; it’s a Polaroid (Nursey is the only person Bitty knows who owns a Polaroid camera) of the frogs— Nursey and Dex on either side, and Chowder in the middle holding up a sign that says ‘WE’LL MISS YOU, BITTY!’ They’re wearing the same clothes that they wore today to the graduation ceremony, and Suzanne’s written below the picture,  _ ‘Dicky’s friends on graduation day.’ _

“They already had that sign made when we met up with them to get our seats,” Coach says. “They were planning on holding it up when you got your diploma, but we convinced ‘em to take a picture with it instead. Derek was the one who suggested using a Polaroid so we could put it in the scrapbook right away.”

“Do you like it?” Suzanne wants to know.

“I love it,” Bitty says. “Thank you.”

They smile at him from across the table, that sort of one-smile-on-two-faces that happens when two people have been together for a very long time. Nobody who sees them smile together could doubt for a moment that they love each other. Bitty  _ aches _ for something like that.

Soon. Everything will be out in the open soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you think i can't include the frogs in every gd chapter you are wrong, i can and will do it and frequently will not even realize that i am doing so  
> sorry this took longer than usual in between updates! somehow i suddenly wound up with a lot of writing projects at once so updates will probably be on the slower side from here on out. i don't intend for there to always be a wait as long as this one (real life interfered and when you're busy from 8 am to 7 pm every day for a week and still have to do your homework, there's not a lot of writing time :/) but just be prepared for there to be more than just a few days in between chapters, although of course i will try to update as quickly as possible.  
> love y'all!! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Bitty claims the window seat on the plane and spends most of the flight back to Georgia staring out the window with his headphones in. Jack’s flying out tomorrow and will be in Madison by dinnertime of that day. Bitty had protested, since he _is_ planning to stay for two weeks and that’s a lot of time for Jack to just hang out in a hotel room, but Jack assured him that he usually spends the first few weeks of the offseason catching up on the reading he didn’t have time for when the season was in full swing, and he can do that in Madison as well as in Providence.

“Besides, I’ve barely left Providence except for roadies and visiting my parents,” Jack had added. “Tater’s always on me about taking vacations, so I can placate him a little this way.”

“I don’t want you to just spend all your time waiting for me to contact you,” Bitty had said.

“I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll prove it to you.”

“And how will you do that?”

Bitty had realized in approximately two seconds that that was a ridiculous question, but it had already been said, so when Jack raised his eyebrows at him he just shrugged and said “I forgot cameras existed for a second there.”

“That seems impossible considering it’s you,” Jack had replied, and Bitty had rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“You take any opportunity you can get, don’t you, Mr. Zimmermann?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Now, he wonders what Jack is doing. Maybe packing, maybe reading, maybe watching tape or talking to his team. Probably not all four— Jack doesn’t like to multitask. He prefers to devote all his attention to one thing at a time.

Bitty is so lost in his own thoughts that he’s startled when the pilot announces that they’re beginning their descent. He puts the book that he was planning to read back in his backpack unopened and wakes up his parents.

 

Pulling into the driveway of their house is accompanied by the weirdest sense of nostalgia Bitty has ever felt. On the one hand, it feels exactly like every other time he comes home for the summer— the three of them all carrying Bitty’s bags in together, the instant relief of stepping into their house and the realm of air conditioning, the rush to plug in his phone and laptop before deciding that the rest of the unpacking can wait. On the other hand, it feels entirely different.

Once his phone is safely plugged in so it can recover from him forgetting to charge it last night, Bitty wanders downstairs, where Suzanne is taking inventory of their fridge. She looks up when she hears Bitty enter and says, “We have enough butter to make a pecan pie or a batch of drop cookies, but tomorrow we’ll have to run out to the store for more. And we have plenty of eggs, I just checked.”

“I don’t want to start a pie crust now, unless you pre-baked one?” When Suzanne shakes her head, Bitty says, “Drop cookies, then. It’s getting late.”

“And now that you’re not at school anymore you want a functional sleep schedule?”

Well, the reason that Bitty hadn’t charged his phone last night is because he was he’d been up on the roof of Faber with the frogs and tadpoles. They’d been up until three in the morning and woken up at dawn and Bitty hadn’t felt sleep-deprived at all— he didn’t even sleep on the plane. If that doesn’t say something about the effect of college on Bitty’s sleep schedule, he doesn’t know what does. “You could say that.”

“Right,” she says with a grin, and then she starts getting out ingredients for drop cookies. The butter is already out on the counter— Suzanne must have left it there before they left yesterday for Samwell, correctly anticipating that they would start baking as soon as Bitty plugged his phone in.

They’d spent last night surprisingly sober, all things considered. Dex had glared at Nursey and then pointedly looked at the edge of the roof every time Nursey’s hand had wandered close to a drink, and Tango brought rum and Coke but hadn’t mixed them, so they wound up mostly drinking the Coke and going on the most dramatic sugar high that Bitty had personally ever experienced. Despite Dex’s best efforts to keep Nursey away from alcohol, he still wound up a little closer to the edge of the roof than was comfortable for any of them at one point— after that, they’d set up sleeping bags and blankets in the center of the roof and stayed there. Whiskey had drifted off first, followed closely by Dex, since the two of them had restrained themselves the most on soda. Chowder nodded off frequently but always woke up a couple seconds later to re-join the conversation, and when Bitty had fallen asleep he and Tango were still awake and discussing whether there was an actual difference between Diet Coke and Coke Zero or if it wsa just marketing, and nobody could tell if Nursey was actually asleep or not.

“Can you pass me the spoon with the red handle?” Suzanne asks, interrupting Bitty’s train of thought.

Bitty passes it to her. “Tomorrow we should make pecan pralines, since we’re not using the pecans tonight.”

“Sounds good. We still need to shop, though, since Amanda’s older daughter is sick and and I’m supposed to bring over a casserole tomorrow. She hardly has any time to sleep because of her newborn anyway, much less time to cook, poor girl, and Laurel getting sick is just too much for her to handle on her own. Her husband can’t get any time off until next week so the book club are all taking turns helping out. I would’ve had to go over for a couple hours yesterday to watch the baby but Linda swapped days with me, so I’m going on Saturday instead, so you and your father will have the house to yourself for a couple hours. Oh, did I tell you? On Monday Jennifer sent me this recipe for pot roast that she tried out on Sunday and her family _loved_ it, so I’m thinking of trying it while you’re here...”

Bitty nods along and answers her questions, but he’s preoccupied with something else. On Saturday his mother won’t be home, and Coach doesn’t hold weekend practices, especially not right when school’s ended. Should he divide and conquer?

Bitty makes up his mind when they’re putting the raw cookies on the cookie sheets to be baked. On Saturday he’ll tell Coach, just get it over with, and head over to Jack’s hotel for a while if it goes badly. He’ll tell his mother after that, and then he’ll be done and he’ll never have to come out to his parents again and hopefully he’ll approach this with less procrastination than he does his homework assignments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!  
> Y'all probably have an idea of what the next chapter is going to center around. Yes, my friends, we're almost there! This story might even clock out at under 10k, I have no idea. I guess we'll find out!


	7. Chapter 7

Around five PM the next day, Bitty’s phone emits the cheerful ‘beep boop’ sound that he’s assigned to Jack.

 

 **Jack:** Landed.

 **Jack:** How do you deal with this temperature all the time?

 

Bitty laughs to himself and replies.

 

 **Bitty:** decent AC and lots of sweet tea

 **Bitty:** that rhymed!!!

 **Jack:** ‘decent’ AC is not enough for this. I have decent AC in my apartment. You need air conditioning on performance-enhancing substances to manage this.

 **Bitty:** it’s only 80 out hon

 **Jack:** ‘only’

 **Bitty:** lol weak

 **Jack:** I am weak. I’m limp from the heat. I feel like I’m melting.

 **Jack:** I’ll get to the hotel and just collapse on the bed and housekeeping will come in the next morning and think ‘why is there a puddle on the bed and where is the occupant of this room?’

 **Bitty:** omg

 **Bitty:** just stay hydrated and wear shorts and t-shirts

 **Bitty:** u know, like u usually do when it’s below freezing and ur walking to murder stop n shop for peanut butter

 **Jack:** :-D

 **Bitty:** & theres an ice rink too so u’ll be ok

 **Bitty:** just go hang out in ur natural habitat

 **Jack:** Will do. Going to the hotel now, ttyl :-)

 **Bitty:** :))))) :*

 **Jack:** :-*

 

Coach is making most of tonight’s dinner, but Suzanne is making garlic bread to accompany the grilled fish and vegetables. That part was Coach’s idea, and Bitty discovers why when he wanders downstairs to find Coach taking advantage of his wife’s absence (they’re nearly out of garlic, as it turns out, so Suzanne had to run to the store) to casually eat some of the pralines that Bitty and Suzanne had made earlier that day.

“Thief,” Bitty jokingly accuses him.

“I swear I didn’t plan this,” Coach replies. “I just really like garlic bread. And pralines.”

“Sure.” Actually, Bitty knows that’s true, but that won’t prevent him from making fun. Coach offers him the pralines, and when Bitty takes one, his father snorts and raises his eyebrows. Bitty does not deign to respond.

“So I can see why you want to go back to Massachusetts so soon,” Coach comments out of the blue.

“Huh?” Bitty immediately takes another praline so his mouth will be full so he won’t be expected to talk. He takes his time selecting it, poring over the food like it holds the key to the universe.

“Half the time you’ve been here, you’re baking, and the other half of the time you’re on your phone talking to your team. Lots more of your family are up north than down here.”

“Our family is enormous,” Bitty points out, silently relieved. “And none of them live in Massachusetts.”

“ _Your_ family, Junior. You can’t help who you’re related to but that doesn’t mean you’re stuck with them. Your family all lives somewhere else.” Bitty opens his mouth to assure Coach that he and Suzanne are still family, but Coach is still talking. “Now, your mother and I knew that you wouldn’t want to stay in Madison after high school, but knowing it’ll happen someday and having it happen right now are different things, so if it seems like we’re not happy with your decision, I want you to know that we want you to do what makes you happy. Even if it’s not something I or your mother would do. I never wanted to leave Georgia, but if you want to, that’s your choice. It’ll take us some time to get used to it, but Massachusetts isn’t any farther now than it was when you were applying to Samwell, and if you’re happy there, then we have no right to make you come back.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course. I can’t imagine leaving, but then, I didn’t. I live where I want to be. You deserve the same thing.”

“I love Samwell,” Bitty admits. “I can’t believe I’m not going back.”

“Seems to me like you were telling us about plenty of times that your alumni friends came back,” Coach replies with a grin. Bitty _had_ related stories about the number of times Shitty had returned to gripe about law school and Lardo came back to keep her title as local beer pong champion. “It only stands to reason you’d want to do the same.”

“I was going to stay with Jack this summer until I found a place,” Bitty says.

“That’s awfully nice of him to offer. Guy with an NHL salary has got to have a spare bedroom. Beds are a lot more comfortable than couches.”

“Especially since Lardo and, um, Crappy have a small apartment to begin with and it won’t be any less cramped with me there.”

“No, probably not. And you don’t want to third wheel, am I right?”

“Yes.” Bitty doesn’t waste time wondering how Coach came to the conclusion that Lardo and Shitty were dating, since it’s a somewhat heteronormative but nonetheless simple jump to make after learning that they live together.

“There’s no shame in staying with someone else if you can’t afford living by yourself,” Coach says. “I lived with my best friend for a few years after we graduated college. I think I only ever lived by myself for a year and a half, actually.”

“I think my situation is a little different.”

“Why do you say that?”

Bitty stares fiercely at the pralines as he answers. “Because Jack and I have only been dating for a few months and it seems a little soon to move in with him.”

There’s silence for a long time, long enough that he looks up. Coach doesn’t look mad— he looks pensive.

“Well, to be honest, I think you’re right about that, Junior. Your mother and I moved in together after dating for six months and everyone we knew thought that was quite fast. Not to mention, my grandparents thought it was morally corrupt of us to be living together at all before we got married. Things are different now, of course, but if you think it’s too early, then it’s too early.”

Bitty stays silent, not trusting his voice to let him speak. He can feel a lump in his throat and somewhere along the way his hands clenched into fists, so tightly that his knuckles are paper-white.

“I told you a few minutes ago to do what makes you happy, and we will support you,” Coach says, his voice impossibly soft. “That will never change, even if you’re in love with a man.”

Bitty squeezes his eyes shut and nods.

Coach gets up and takes a plate from the cupboard, filling it up with pralines. It’s a good thing Suzanne and Bitty made enough to feed a small army. He slides the plate over the counter to Bitty. “You deserve these for saying something. I’m going to go see what’s on ESPN, do you want to come?” When Bitty shakes his head, his father nods. “Okay. Take whatever time you need. I’ll let your mother know to give you some space when she comes home. You can tell her when you feel ready. I’m proud of you, Eric.”

Bitty takes the plate of pralines and hurries upstairs. He shuts the door behind him and hugs Señor Bun to his chest, taking a minute to just sit on his bed and breathe.

When the lump in his throat has dissolved and his breaths are slow and deep, Bitty opens up his phone.

 

 **Bitty:** i told coach

 **Bitty:** he’s ok with it

 

It only takes a second before Jack replies.

 

 **Jack:** That’s fantastic! Congratulations on telling him!

 **Jack:** I love you :-*

 **Bitty:** I love you too :*  <3

 **Jack:** <3

 **Bitty:** and proving that he really is related to me, a large part of coach’s response was to give me food

 **Jack:** LOL

 **Jack:** I don’t think anyone could doubt that you’re related, you didn’t get those eyelashes from your mother

 **Bitty:** ok true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter kicked my ass  
> Honestly, I don't know what to say beyond that except I firmly believe that Bitty inherited fabulous eyelashes from Coach and nobody can tell me otherwise.  
> don't know when the next update will be but hopefully it'll be soon-- i doubt it'll be this weekend but my goal is for it to be sometime next week  
> we're definitely getting close to the end now, folks  
> (also i casually forgot that in this au jack never lived in the haus and had to go back and fix it literally 2 seconds before i was gonna post lmao)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is a lil longer than the others b/c it wasn't long enough to justify making it two chapters and everything kind of led into one another better than it would if i introduced a random chapter break sooooo here it is!! the last chapter!!!!

About half an hour later, Bitty hears the garage door open and close, and then Coach and Suzanne’s muffled voices. Nobody comes upstairs to find him, so he disregards it and goes back to rambling in the old group chat that Shitty had insisted on keeping around— even once he, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster had graduated and Bitty was the only group chat member still at Samwell, Shitty claimed it was ‘his duty’ to give them updates on what was going on.

 

**Bitty:** i mean what am i even supposed to do now that i don’t have hockey as motivation to exercise

**Bitty:** running is gross

**Bitty:** punching bags are just.... ew, not good

**Bitty:** weights are meh

**Bitty:** i can’t just do squats???

**Ransom:** well jack’s solution to that problem was to join a pro hockey team

**Bitty:** i’m not getting paid to exercise

**Holster:** u should like

**Holster:** join an amateur league

**Holster:** or smth

**Lardo:** dude just accept that you can’t afford a car and public transportation is expensive and you’re gonna have to walk everywhere

**Lardo:** gettin those 10000 steps a day

**Lardo:** millennial exercise

**Shitty:** stop being depressing in the group chat LARDO

**Shitty:** (but she’s right)

**Bitty:** ew reality

**Ransom:** can u get a gym membership?

**Bitty:** not until i have money

**Holster:** burn calories by running away from your problems 

**Holster:** zoom

**Shitty:** hOLSTER

**Holster:** shits ur literally still in school u don’t have to deal with this yet

**Shitty:** truE BUT STILL

**Holster:** u small bean

**Shitty:** ...bitch???

 

After that, the group chat moves at lightspeed, and Bitty’s content just to sit back and watch it happen. He counts no less than eight invocations of Holster’s age and size advantage and three of Shitty’s mustache. It’s only when there are soft footsteps in the hallway and a knock on Bitty’s door that he realizes how long he’s been sitting there watching his fellow alums (oh God) descend into a near brawl.

“Hey, Dicky,” his mother says when he gets up and opens the door. “Dinner’s ready, if you want it now. If not, we’ll save some for you and you can heat it up when you’re hungry. Your father told me you’re having a rough day.”

Bitty sighs. “It’s been a trying one,” he offers, and Suzanne nods in acknowledgement. He takes the now-empty plate of pralines, since there’s no point in leaving it in his room, and they walk downstairs in silence.

Dinner is interesting in that it’s so different from usual. Suzanne is willing to avoid making Bitty talk, but for once it’s Coach who carries the conversation. He carefully steers it away from Bitty at every opportunity, which is nice of him, but Bitty is completely verbal, he’s just... well, he’s tired. The tears left him feeling dried-up, almost, and Bitty doesn’t have enough energy to be emotional. He probably should’ve taken a nap before dinner, but it’s too late now. He can just go to bed early and hope that sleep serves as a reset of some sort— maybe he won’t wake up feeling so drained.

“Oh, and I’m hoping you can tell me what happened to all of those pralines that we made,” Suzanne says to Coach with a faint smile as she takes the third-to-last piece of garlic bread. “Funnily enough, a lot of them seemed to have vanished by the time I got home.”

“That was mostly me,” Bitty speaks up. His parents glance over at him in surprise, probably because he hasn’t been saying anything. “But Coach started it.”

When Suzanne looks over at Coach to confirm or deny that, he just shrugs.

“Well, alright then,” she says, and moves on while Bitty is still wondering if he should take the opportunity in front of him. She’s asking Coach about the plans for new locker rooms at the high school before he can say anything else.

Bitty finishes his food in silence, and then sits and stares at the table, not wanting to go to bed with the prospect of telling his mother still hanging over his head, but not wanting to say the words either. There’s no lead-in this time, no convenient discussion of roommates that he can use to bring it up. So how?

Coach must have assumed that Bitty’s not going to tell Suzanne tonight, because he’s still determinedly talking at length about how the team will have more locker space to store their gear. He’s only just started extolling the virtues of the new lighting when Bitty folds up his napkin and sets it neatly on the placemat. When he stands up, both of his parents look at him in surprise, and the force that he pushed his chair back with probably  _ was _ surprising.

Bitty picks up his plate and cup to take to the dishwasher before saying, “Mom, I’m gay.”

The words come out calmer than he’d expected.

Suzanne blinks.

“I’m gay,” he repeats. “And I’m dating Jack Zimmermann.”

Then he puts his cup and plate in the sink and goes up to his room and shuts the door and sits on his bed and squeezes Señor Bun’s paw with one hand while he unlocks his phone with the other and composes three texts and sends them off.

The first one is to last year’s starting line. Chowder, Nursey, Dex, Whiskey, and Tango. Bitty reserves more personal things for this group chat instead of the team-wide one— not just because he was the captain, but also because there are only so many people he actually  _ wants _ to vent about his life to.  _ Hey y’all, just came out to my mom, send good vibes my way pls. _

The second is to the same alumni groupchat that only just finished calming the fuck down.  _ sooo now my mom knows im gay and that i have a boyfriend, am currently waiting in my room hoping that when i come back down things will be ok. left b4 she cld react. _

The third is to Jack.  _ told my mom, went to my room without waiting to see how she reacted. gonna go back down and see what the fallout is in like half an hour. i have a bag packed just in case, i’ll let you know if i’m coming over. _

Jack responds immediately, as do other people who’d gotten one of his first two texts, but Bitty answers Jack’s first.

 

**Jack:** I have a rental car if you need a ride. Just let me know.

**Bitty:** i don’t think i will, but i’ll call and give u an update once i know more

**Bitty:** rn i’m just killing time

**Jack:** I’ll call you in an hour to check in if I don’t hear from you before then.

**Bitty:** talk to u in a lil bit

 

The two group chats that he’s texted have blown up over the course of his short conversation with Jack, mostly expressions of hope from the frogs and tadpoles and calm texts from the other alums meant to reassure. Bitty sends the frogs and tadpoles a quick  _ thank you _ before turning to the other group chat.

 

**Bitty:** i have a contingency plan if things go horribly bad

**Bitty:** but my dad is ok w it

**Bitty:** so im giving him and my mom time to talk before i go back down there

**Lardo:** i think that’s a good idea

**Holster:** Pls. keep us updated about what’s happening.

**Holster:** Ransom is in the shower but he says if you need help w. anything hit us up.

**Holster:** (I concur)

**Lardo:** same, i already said u can crash on our couch, it’s ok if u want to stay here for a while

**Lardo:** but if ur dad is fine w it then i’m sure ur mom will be too

**Shitty:** ^^^^^

**Shitty:** dw

**Shitty:** #smhgotyourback

**Holster:** shitty i have been a college graduate for over a year and i’m crying over a gd hashtag.

**Holster:** why

**Shitty:** u know it’s true brah

 

Bitty’s stomach hurts when he walks downstairs, nauseous anticipation. He feels tense. His shoulders are hunched practically up to his ears.

He drops his bag in the front hallway before turning and walking into the kitchen. Suzanne and Coach are there, still sitting at the table. There are three glasses of sweet tea. Without that clue, Bitty wouldn’t have thought that they’d gotten up at all.

“Please sit down, Dicky,” Suzanne says when she sees him standing in the doorway.

Bitty sits, and for a little while, that’s what they do. Sit in silence. Until she sighs and says, “I will admit that whenever I pictured my future family, I always thought that my child would be straight.” She looks tired. “Although I can’t say I’m exactly surprised, either.”

Coach takes a sip of his tea.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand, because I don’t,” Suzanne says. “But I love you. You’re still my son, Eric Richard Bittle Junior. You still bake and you still skate and you’re still going to Boston to find a job in a week. None of that has changed.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Bitty agrees quietly.

“And I don’t want you going halfway across the country thinking I don’t love you, or you’re disowned, because neither of those things are true. I won’t lie to you and say it’s a great idea to tell the rest of the family— I’m sure you’ve already thought about that— but when it comes down to it, family you see twice a year aren’t as important as family you’re with every day, and I’m sure you know that too.” She drinks some of her tea. “I just hope that home doesn’t become such a painful place for you that you can never come back. Even if it’s just for a visit.”

“I haven’t left yet, Mama.”

Suzanne sniffs. Coach silently gets up and brings back a box of tissues, setting it on the table equidistant from his wife and his son. “That is true, isn’t it. I’m not letting you leave without trying that pot roast.”

Bitty smiles a little. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

 

**Bitty:** it went ok

**Chowder:** that’s great!!!! congratulations!!!!!!!

**Nursey:** good to know

**Tango:** are u still coming up to mass. for the summer or are u staying there??

**Bitty:** still coming to boston!

**Dex:** see you soon then!

**Whiskey:** :) :) :)

 

**Bitty:** she’s not thrilled but she’s ok w it

**Lardo:** fuckin called it

**Holster:** excuse u u did not call anything

**Lardo:** umm yes i did???

**Ransom:** that’s good to hear bitty, we’re v happy for u except holster is busy being irritated at lardo? apparently?

**Shitty:** congrats brah, that’s a big thing you just did

**Shitty:** totally celebrating when u get here

 

**Bitty:** so overall everything went fine, my mom is not exactly ecstatic but she’s happy i told her

**Bitty:** oh and my parents want to meet u since i mentioned u were staying in madison for a little while?

**Bitty:** ur officially invited to the bittle residence on tuesday for pot roast

**Jack:** I’ll be there. How do you feel?

**Bitty:** lighter i guess?

**Bitty:** it hasn’t sunk in that i’m rlly out to both of my parents and it went ok

**Jack:** It’ll sink in eventually.

**Bitty:** yup

**Jack:** And you also never have to come out to your parents again.

**Bitty:** that’s a definite plus

**Jack:** Go to sleep early okay? You sound exhausted.

**Bitty:** i am

**Bitty:** yeah i’m gonna do that now. gn, ttyl, love you  <3

**Jack:** I love you too.  <3 <3 <3 <3

**Jack:** Talk to you tomorrow.

**Bitty:** :)

**Jack:** :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S THE END!  
> honestly this has been so amazing to write, i usually stay away from stuff that isn't like 108% fluff so i was worried about how it would turn out? but everyone's been so lovely <3 also thanks to jxc (queercamilla on tumblr) for letting me constantly bounce ideas off her!!  
> i'm not going to write the scene where jack meets suzanne and coach b/c y'all know how that will turn out, jack will charm the pants off them, he and coach will bond over sports, he and suzanne will bond over food, it'll go great.  
> thank you so much for reading!! <3 my tumblr is birlcholtz if y'all want to come scream with me!  
> there'll be a little hiatus on the series for a while before i start the next fic, which will be focused almost entirely on nursey and dex bc honestly it was only a matter of time before i wrote something about the frogs lol. but of course bitty and jack will still be there!

**Author's Note:**

> by popular request! also, there'll definitely be at least 1 followup (if this doesn't get away from me and turn into a multichaptered fic like the original airport au did) but i cannot guarantee that it will be very soon or that there won't be any other ficlets in the middle. i'm working through requests/suggestions and i want to get those posted as well but i figured that since so many people wanted to see how this played out i should at least get it started.  
> also, i don't know what on earth this title is supposed to mean, i just wanted something all lowercase and Aesthetic and this popped into my head (although i did go through several iterations of different combinations of pronouns before i settled on 'you' and 'us')


End file.
